


these tangled knots of living have finally caught me too

by aiineslin



Series: you turn myself to me, and recognise the poison in my heart [3]
Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Character Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 21:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15615753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiineslin/pseuds/aiineslin
Summary: She loved her sisters, she really did.





	these tangled knots of living have finally caught me too

**Author's Note:**

> \- title taken from elsiane - vaporous. [because... debbie is different from barb and care, who are portishead girls through and through.]  
> \- fun fact: hyenas are more closely related to cats than dogs.  
> \- this quite literally erupted out from me after i wrote up barbara's piece, so, here you go.  
> \- i can be found at thedennings.tumblr.com, feel free to pop by and chat!

Parents weren’t supposed to have favourites, but Debbie knew she was the best-loved among the three.

It was obvious from a young age.

Barbara’s piano lessons were stopped in favour of nurturing Debbie’s gymnastic skills, and while Barbara never made Debbie feel _bad_ about it, there was a conspicuous space in the living room where her piano once stood, a space where the furniture did not align quite right.

Carol wore Barbara’s hand-me-downs, and only got new clothes when she finally started working part-time jobs. Her chess club and art club activities went uncommented on.

Mom and Dad gave Debbie the very best they could afford; they bought her beautiful costumes to wear at her meets, enrolled her in the classes of well-known coaches, focussed the resources of the entire household on her.

She supposed she should feel good about this, bask in this miasma of adoration.

(She doesn’t.)

*

Debbie liked to watch nature documentaries.

It was a small luxury allowed to her in between the hours of training and schoolwork, a gap of one or two hours that she filled up with the deep, knowledgeable voices of television presenters and wide shots of jungles, savannahs or arctic tundras.

Barbara reminded her of a great cat, all soft hair and large, liquid eyes.

Debbie had seen nature documentaries where leopards waited for days in the trees to hunt prey, sitting pretty with their paws folded atop each other, muscles coiled in watchful tension.

The first time she’d seen a leopard on the small television screen, she had leant forwards, clutching her cushion close to her chest. That was Barbara, she thought. A big leopard, trapped in the confines of their small house.

She was not that close to her big sister – in truth, she was close to none of her sisters. After all, it was difficult to get close to people when you were out almost all day long, training at gymnastics.

Still, there was a sweltering Sunday morning which she remembered with great fondness.

“Barb,” Debbie had popped her head around the doorway to Barbara’s room. “Can you teach me how to fix my hair?”

Barbara’s black eyes had lit on her, still and placid, and Debbie found herself babbling, “Amy Swanson is throwing a sleepover, and I heard that they usually do makeovers, and if you didn’t know how to braid hair or paint nails they’ll _hate_ you –“

Barbara had blinked up at her from the bed, a magazine covering half her face.

“Sure.” She sat up, yawned widely. “I don’t have anything to do anyways.”

It was a nice afternoon, with Barbara teaching her how to braid her brown hair into different sort of plaits. At the end of it all, Barbara even took out her collection of nail polish to colour her nails purple, blue and red.

“Why those colours?” Barbara had asked, idly brushing long, even strokes over a nail.

“They sorta remind me of you and Carol,” said Debbie. “And I’m blue, because I like the colour blue.”

Barbara blinked up at her. “Well, I’m definitely not a red sort of person. I guess I’m supposed to be purple?”

“Yeah, ‘cause like, Mrs Todd told us purple is a royal colour and you’re eh-le-gant. Like a pretty jungle cat.”

The slow, lazy grin that unfolded over Barbara’s face was beautiful.

“That’s a lovely thing to say, kid.” She looked down at the nails, gave a little snort and said, “Flattery will get you everywhere.” 

So saying, she put Debbie’s hands down and took out _another_ box of nail polish, this one filled to the brim with wild, glittery colours and various nail accessories.

“Oh Barb,” breathed Debbie, looking at the box. “Thank you, thank you!” So saying, she flung herself at Barbara, hugging her tightly. “I love you, Barb!”

Above her, she felt Barbara’s breathing draw to a halt. A few heart-thumping moments later, a hand descended on her head and began to stroke her fine hair. “I love you too, baby girl. Hey, watch your hands and feet. Don’t go messing up my clothes.”

Debbie went to school for the next few weeks with delicately painted and pasted little stars, moons and hearts on her purple, blue and red nails; she did not remove the polish until they chipped off naturally into nothingness. 

*

Once, Debbie came home with a bruise on her face.

Carol was home that day, laid up with a bout of flu. Therefore, she was the first to see Debbie’s face, and Carol being Carol, had stalked up and gripped her chin tightly, turning her head this way and that way to get a better view of the purpling bruise.

“What happened?”

Debbie attempted to wrench her face away, but it was impossible; Carol was far older and stronger, so she went limp, glaring at a point behind Carol, feeling embarrassed tears bead at the corners of her eyes.

“Some girls at gym class were mean to me.”

“Uh-huh. And what did you do?”

Debbie looked up at Carol.

The bespectacled girl stared down at her, a lollipop pushing her left cheek out. “Prissy gym class going girls don’t usually do shit like this. What did you do?”

“Bit the lead girl,” mumbled Debbie. “They were throwing Harold around.” Harold, a reference to the huge and old frog keychain she hung from her schoolbag.

Carol barked out a surprised laugh. “Fucking hell.” 

She let go of Debbie’s chin then, letting the girl stumble back. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a lollipop, handing it over to Debbie, who accepted it with a surprised blink. Carol considered Debbie for a moment. “Who did this?”

“I - I don’t really want any trouble.”

“Sure you don’t.” Carol tipped her head back and screamed, “Barb! _BARB_!”

“What the absolute fuck, Care.” Barbara padded down from upstairs, her hair a rumpled mess, and oh – was that a bruise on the side of her collarbone? Her eye caught Debbie’s gaze, and she tugged her shirt up, casually covering the hickey. “You’re home early, kid.”

“Some kids tried to fuck up little Debbie,” called Carol, rolling up to lean against the bannister. She coughed wetly, and removed the lollipop from her mouth. “She _bit_ them.”

Barbara’s gaze flickered to Debbie, and Debbie blushed red-hot under her sister’s assessing gaze. It was such a bad, terrible thing to do – it was such a _Carol_ thing, and Mom and Dad always told her to not be like Carol –

“Debbie,” said Barbara, padding down the stairs to join them, squatting in front of Debbie so she was the one who looked up at the little girl. “Tell us who did this to you.”

Debbie could never say no to Barbara, so she told them what happened in class - _some_ nasty girls stole Harold and threw him around, and she named names and when she was finally done, Barbara and Carol exchanged glances.

“I know that little fucker’s sister,” said Carol with a deep, terrible satisfaction. “She’s in Maths with me.”

“Mm-hmm,” hummed Barbara thoughtfully. “Mm-hmm.”

They never spoke of the matter again, but Carol passed Debbie Harold _and_ two new frog plushies a week later, and the girls never bothered Debbie again, but they never spoke to her too. She was glad when they moved on to another state, because quite frankly, it was getting a little strange, what with all the girls in class avoiding her like the plague.

*

She never really liked to practice alone with Dad.

Dad liked to look at her - _stare_ with a strange look in his eyes.

Her family - Debbie realised - were all animals in their own way, Barbara a jungle cat, Carol a laughing hyena, Mom a soft white rabbit and Dad? Dad was a hippopotamus, big and angry with unreadable eyes. It wasn’t a very nice thing to think about one’s father, but Debbie tried to think of other animals to compared to Dad and the only other one she could think of was a crocodile. But she liked crocodiles, because they ran in a funny way on land, so she decided to classify Dad as a hippopotamus.

She tried not to practice when she was alone with Dad, but sometimes – like today – he would ask her to come down to the study room and spin for him.

So she spun for him, fixing her gaze on the wall, spinning and spinning.

Until the door rattled open, and Carol stepped in.

“Did I say you could come in here, Carol?”

“My textbooks are here -“

“Out.” 

Carol’s gaze darted from Dad to Debbie, her eyebrows beetling together before she expelled a hiss of disgust, turning on her heel to stomp out of the study room.

“That girl needs a beating,” Dad said to himself. He looked at Debbie. “You’re my best girl, Debbie. You’ve always been.”

Dad reached out.

The door rattled open, and now it was Barbara standing in the doorway. Still Debbie spun. She could see a glimpse of brown, Carol’s wild head of hair vanishing as she ducked out of sight.

Dad’s attention flickered to Barbara. “What is that?” There was a massive hickey sucked into the side of Barbara’s neck.

“None of your business.” Barbara kept her gaze fixed on a point slightly beside Dad. “I’m here to get my textbooks.”

“Are you a whore, Barbara? Is that what you are?”

Dad was beginning to raise his voice, and now he stood from his chair. Barbara bristled, her shoulders curling into a defensive hunch. Debbie seized the chance to slip out. She thought she saw Barbara glance just once, swiftly towards her before the door slammed shut behind her.

“Call Mom,” snapped Carol. As Debbie had thought, she was standing just around the corner.

“Mom can’t do anything,” whispered Debbie.

“She can do _something_ ,” said Carol, dragging Debbie to the living room, where the phone was located. “She won’t listen to me. _Call her, Debbie._ ”

Behind them, they heard something heavy hitting the wall.

“Fuck,” mumbled Carol, her grip loosening as she turned back towards the study room.

“Mom can’t do anything,” muttered Debbie, and she took the chance to slip her wrist out of Carol’s grasp, snaked around Carol, and darted back to her room, ignoring Carol’s startled “What the fuck –“and all other bad, angry sounds after that.

In the morning, all was normal. Mom served breakfast. Barbara, Mom said, was going to be taking a few days off from school.

*

Once, they had a sleepover. It was the night before they moved to West Virginia, and Mom and Dad said they could stay up late.

So they had gathered in the basement, around the television set, where the only late night shows were gory nature documentaries and gorier horror movies.

Carol’s movie was supposed to start at one am, but it was only midnight, so Debbie had proposed watching a nature documentary – The World’s Most Efficient Hunters.

On the screen, a pack of hyenas took down an antelope, tearing its soft throat out and bringing it down to the ground.

“Carol,” said Debbie, forgetting for a moment just who she was speaking to. “You’re such a hyena.”

In the flickering light of the screen, Carol’s head turned to stare at Debbie, her eyes narrowing.

“Why the fuck am I a hyena?”

“Uhm.”

“She’s calling you a bitch, bitch,” snickered Barbara. She reached out and petted Debbie’s head. “Clever girl.”

“Fuck you,” said Carol, her attention returning to the screen. “So what’s Barb, Debs?”

“A pretty jungle cat,” blurted out Debbie, shifting slightly closer to Barbara, who emitted a self-satisfied snigger. “A leopard, I think.”

“Oho!” Carol flung herself back on to the floor, grinning hugely up at Barbara. “So you’re a cat because you’re always giving up pussy to whoever you meet, yeah?“

“Hyenas are like,” interrupted Debbie, because she could see Barbara opening her mouth, and she knew that once Barbara and Carol got into a fight, nobody would have peace for the next half hour. And she _really_ did want to watch this documentary. “Supposed to be super smart. And they’re really tough. And like, nothing can beat a hyena. Not even lions. That’s why they reminded me of you, Carol.”

Well that, she added mentally, and they’ve got really crazy laughs.

Carol blinked, looking oddly gratified. “When did she get so good at sweet talking, huh?”

“Beats me. Guess that pretty little mouth is good for something after all.”

The laughter both shared went right over Debbie’s head, but as she settled in between her two sisters, she thought she wouldn’t have traded them for anybody in the world.

A beat passed, and Debbie said, “What d’you think I am?”

Carol fixed her with a mirthful stare, and cracked her lollipop into two. “You’re a dung beetle, because you’re a little shit.”

 *

She loved her sisters, she really did.

It would have been nice to share a room with them. They could have talked about fun topics like Barbara’s endless parade of boyfriends, Carol’s love of horror movies and Debbie could have even showed them her top secret drawings of wild animals. She could have told them that she never wanted to be a professional gymnast, that she wanted to be a wildlife photographer when she grew up, that she wanted to take photos of wild animals in tropical jungles, of beautiful sleek-furred cats that reminded her of Barbara.

After that, they could have cuddled together on their bunk beds, and Debbie would share a bed with either Barbara or Carol (probably Barbara because honestly - Carol was kind of scary) and Debbie could have gone to sleep without worrying about bedroom doors opening in the night because her sisters would be there, and they would protect her.

But here they were, and they were laughing at her, pushing her towards the lake while she screamed herself hoarse and battered reinforced glass with her gloved hands.

“Barb,” she wailed. “Barb, please, no.”

Her sister laughed at her, showing her beautiful white teeth and it was such an ugly laugh, hacking and shrieking - and Debbie had never heard Barbara laugh like that before, only _Carol_ laughed like that. It was a mad dog laugh, the laugh of an insane hyena, and when Debbie heard it, she felt her heart constrict and sink to the bottom of her feet.

“Barb Barb Barb,” screamed Debbie until she felt something in her throat give way and tear, because in the end she was still a little girl, and she had two sisters, an older sister who painted pretty stars on her nails and a second sister who gave her sweets.

The water was cold, and it pressed heavily against the glass, and she saw cracks spiderweb their way across the window panes and Debbie opened her mouth and screamed and screamed into the unfeeling blackness of the lake.

She really did love her sisters, she really did love her sisters, she really di –


End file.
